24 hours on Loch Lomond’s ‘bonnie banks’
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
— Unknown, 1841
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where we two have passed so many blithesome days
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
O ye’ll take the high road and I’ll take the low road
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
I last left you in Edinburgh, at 6 a.m., in a panic over whether to stay or go.
On a whim, just days before I left for the U.K., I booked two nights in a room right next to the shores of Loch Lomond, hatching plans to hike and explore the area’s charming small towns before heading back to Edinburgh and my husband. What’s the worst that could happen, I thought? If it rains, I’ll hole up in a spa or a tearoom.
A few weeks later, there I was in Edinburgh, just an hour away from my scheduled trip to the loch. The good news: The forecast called for three days of ideal crisp fall weather. The bad news: I had just arrived in Scotland 12 hours ago, I was low on sleep and energy, and oh yeah, I was the sickest I’d ever felt in my adult life.
One long internal debate later, I decided, against my better judgment, that I would go. I stuffed my backpack with a whole box of herbal tea, four travel packs of tissues, a dozen doses of DayQuil and NyQuil, and several sachets of a mysterious U.K. product called Lemsip, which seemed to be easing my throat pain considerably. Then I crossed my fingers and headed out the door.
Out the train windows, I watched the Gothic spires and stone townhouses give way to suburban sprawl, then to rolling fields of farmland, wild beaches and cliffside castles. I don’t know whether it was the view, the brilliant sun or the cold meds, but for a moment I felt like my regular self — bursting with energy and excitement, ready to take on a new solo adventure.
I rode the train to its terminus in Balloch. My Airbnb rental was quite literally across the street — not exactly the most romantic location, but it was convenient, surprisingly quiet and super affordable. Resisting the urge to lie down for a nap, I dropped my luggage and headed right back out the door, determined not to waste the beautiful sunshine or my sudden spurt of energy.
I’ll be honest: The town of Balloch is long on convenience but short on charm. It’s considered the main gateway to Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park, which is probably the only reason it sees tourist traffic. People seem to stop here mainly to get their bearings at the park visitor center, take a boat tour around the lake, stock up on essentials at the grocery store, or fill up their gas tanks. Some may stay a bit longer to visit the aquarium. But the real magic of the park lies beyond Balloch, in the hills and smaller hamlets that can’t be reached by train. That’s why, on this day, I was headed north.
Two blocks down the main road, I grabbed a regional bus to tiny, cute Balmaha. The village is an ideal base for hiking enthusiasts, with access to several signature hikes within the national park. From here, visitors can jump on the West Highland Way, a storied 95-mile pilgrimage route, or climb Conic Hill, an ideal hike for people who want a moderate challenge and stunning scenery. They can also meander down a wide variety of easier, shorter paths around town, a great way to take in the great outdoors without committing to a full day’s outing.
On another day, in another condition, I might have chosen to hike Conic Hill. But I knew the cold medicine was powering the minimal energy I had, and I didn’t want to push my luck. So I headed toward Balmaha’s boat yard.
Balmaha has a beautiful little secret that few international travelers seem to have caught on to: Inchcailloch, an island nature reserve just five minutes from the shore by ferry. I stumbled on this easy but scenic walk on a local hiking website many years ago, back when I thought Ian and I might move to the West Highlands for work, and was captivated by its history and views.
Over the centuries, Inchcailloch (“Island of the Old Woman” in Gaelic) has been used as a hunting ground, an oat farm, an oak tree plantation and a burial ground for members of the Clan MacGregor. Today, visitors can still wander among grave markers for the ancestors of the famous Scottish outlaw Rob Roy.
The only way to access the island is by public ferry or private boat — and when the ferry costs just 5 GBP and looks this cute, why would you ever choose the latter?
On a perfect fall day like this, the ferry ride alone is worth the price of admission. Along the mainland’s shoreline, the trees were blazing yellow. The imposing silhouette of Conic Hill rose above the evergreen trees. The lake shone blinding white in the sun.
For all I know, Inchcailloch could be crawling with visitors on a typical summer day. But on this late October afternoon, I was sharing the island with scarcely 10 people, all of them from the U.K. More views for me, I thought as I followed a gently climbing staircase up to the island’s modest summit. The climb couldn’t have taken me more than 15 minutes, yet the views were as jaw-dropping as any I’d seen in the Pacific Northwest or the Rocky Mountains. Suddenly I wished I’d packed myself a picnic to enjoy here.
I lingered a few minutes before continuing south to a small beach, where some tourists camp in the summertime. There, I picked up a paper map and guided myself to the beautiful old MacGregor cemetery.
I had fun trying to parse inscriptions on the deeply weathered stones, imagining how old they must be, wondering what the interred might make of the fact that their final resting place was now a site of interest for local tourists.
Two hours of wandering later, it was time to return to shore, where I was keen to explore more short trails.
There’s a small maze of walking paths on a peninsula across the harbor from town, including a section of the West Highland Way. The area was bursting with fall color. The prospect of more golden vistas propelled me around the next corner, and the next. I challenged myself to my second short climb of the day, eager to see the loch and its islands from another perspective.
As the sun began to sink down, I found the road and made my way back to town.
It was only as I boarded the bus back to Balloch that I realized just how sick I was. Suddenly I could barely go a minute without coughing — embarrassing when you’re on a crowded public bus! — and the curves of the road left me feeling unusually carsick.
Back at the Airbnb, I wondered exactly what sorts of cold relief products I had hurried to pick up the night before. What ingredients were capable of masking the horrific symptoms I had just begun to feel? Certainly nothing I had ever bought in the U.S. was this effective.
I Googled the product I had assumed to be a DayQuil equivalent and realized the dosage was much stronger — 500 milligrams of pain-relieving medication rather than the standard American 325 milligrams.
Then I checked the ingredient list on a packet of Lemsip, which I had used twice that day to relieve my sore throat. It wasn’t an innocent botanical remedy, as I had assumed. It also contained painkillers.
(Quick note: I now know that taking too much acetaminophen, otherwise known as Tylenol or paracetamol, carries dire consequences, especially in the long term. It can cause abdomen pain and nausea, and eventually it can even lead to long-term liver damage. Do not follow my example. If you find yourself regularly taking more than the recommended dose of acetaminophen, please know that people can help.)
Horrified, I resolved to get through dinner without any more cold meds. I stuffed my purse with tissues and cough drops instead.
The cheerful atmosphere at Balloch House, a lochside pub just two blocks away, was enough for me to forget my symptoms for a moment. The restaurant, housed in a building dating back to the 18th century, is the exact sort of place American Anglophiles dream about: stone walls, exposed ceiling beams, tufted leather couches, an abundance of pillows and a roaring fire in every room. Even the food was cozy.
(I was too absorbed in my dinner to take photos, so enjoy these pictures from the Balloch House website and TripAdvisor!)
Isn’t it odd how it’s still possible to have a perfect day, even when you’re ill?
For the next 12 hours, I was out cold. I woke up late in the morning with symptoms that conveyed for the first time exactly how sick I was behind the facade of medication: bleary eyes, a raging headache, tender muscles and blocked sinuses. For the first time in my life, I had slept through an alarm — set the previous night when I had made ambitious plans to take a bus to Loch Fyne for the day. I’m not going anywhere today, I thought — at least, not anywhere I want to go.
Slowly, painfully, I crawled out of bed and out of the house for a much-needed hot tea. The autumn scenery along the way eased my pain, at least temporarily.
Later, with my tea in hand and my luggage packed, I apologized profusely to my Airbnb host and boarded a train back to Edinburgh. It was time, I knew, for a bath and a very long nap in my own space.
Needless to say, this wasn’t the Loch Lomond trip I imagined for myself. I had hoped to scale a peak, bike along the shore, sample local scotch, check out a castle and explore one of the area’s most charming villages. Hell, I had hoped to stay for a touch longer than one day!
Yet, in a way, I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect 24 hours. Sure, I could have done without the debilitating sickness. But the sun was shining, the leaves were golden, the crowds were minimal, and every resident was unfailingly kind to me, even as I sniffled loudly, struggled to understand the bus schedule and consistently mixed up the ten and twenty pence coins.
There’s no question in my mind that the bonnie banks and I will meet again.
IF YOU GO: INCHCAILLOCH Cost: £2.60 (bus fare from Balloch, one way); £7.50 (ferry, round trip) Time: Expect to spend about 2 hours on the island. Directions: From the Balloch train station, walk east to the bus terminus at Balloch Road and Carrochan Road. Take bus 309 to the Balmaha car park. Walk a quarter mile to the Balmaha boat yard, where the ferry to Inchcailloch departs on the half hour or on demand, depending on the time of year. Ride the ferry to Inchcailloch and follow signs to the peak, beach, campground and cemetery. Bring: Snacks, water, rain jacket, camera Links: Bus schedule, ferry information
